


Stress Relief

by Vanemis



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, John is seventeen, M/M, Size Kink, background Dutch/Hosea/Arthur, set before the games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 12:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanemis/pseuds/Vanemis
Summary: John's a mouthy bitch and Arthur finds the perfect way to shut him up.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 28
Kudos: 157





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first fic for Red Dead so let me know your thoughts, like if I got the characterisation right! I had a lot of fun writing this.

It was an impossible task. A feat so grand and out of reach, it hurt just to even consider the reasons or the explanations. Incomprehensible, insane, monumentally ridiculous.

Arthur just could not understand, for the love of God, why the fuck Dutch had adopted John and actually kept the feral child for longer than a week. It was like that time he’d brought home a mangy dog and Hosea had swiftly forced him to take it back before it bit him and gave Arthur all sorts of diseases. He was certain he’d get sick if John bit him too. 

Yes, Arthur had always wanted a little brother like any boy his age. Someone he could share secrets with and play cops and robbers with when the adults were gone. But not John. Anyone but John. He’d been a terrible kid, getting in worse trouble than Arthur ever did, and Arthur was a reckless, stupid child. John took the title of village dud and promoted himself to state idiot. Arthur honestly believed no other kid was that dumb, not even kids who got hit in the head. John was probably dropped down the stairs at least a dozen times as a baby. 

And if he’d been bad as a kid, he was a nightmare as a teenager. He fought every decision Dutch made, argued over every detail, and Dutch never once raised his hand to slap some sense into him. Arthur was more than happy to volunteer. He’d been brawling enough on the side that he felt confident he could knock John out. Maybe even put his family out of the misery of Marston’s existence.

Arthur sat on the edge of a creek where they’d set up camp for the day, enjoying a book he’d borrowed from Hosea. It was a tale about a knight fighting monsters and dragons, one he’d overheard Hosea reading aloud to Dutch the other night by the fire. He always liked Hosea’s reading because he did the voices, unlike Dutch, and he could place his head in Hosea’s lap and fall asleep. Hence why he missed most of the story and asked to borrow it.

However, that blissful moment of peace was shattered into a million pieces as he heard John whine about something totally unimportant. Arthur sighed and doubled his attention on the words, trying to get them to stick in his head, but John’s grating voice had found a little space in his brain and laid eggs like a parasite. Arthur snapped the book shut and exhaled sharply through his nose. 

He didn’t have to get involved but now that his concentration was a bygone dream he could wave goodbye to, what else was there to do? He stood and brushed off the dust, crinkling his nose as a wet leaf stuck to his hand and refused to shake off. He peeled it off angrily and turned towards the small camp. 

Three tents were pitched on the grassy bank. One for John, one for Arthur, and one that Hosea and Dutch shared. Some nights, Arthur joined them too. He couldn’t bear to lie close to John anymore, hearing him do stuff at night, so he wormed his way between his adopted parents and relished in their quiet breathing and warm hands. Most nights, he caught them in the act and wasn’t allowed in. Other nights, they welcomed him with open arms. 

As he stopped short of the camp, he saw Dutch saddling up his horse. At least trying to, as John was buzzing around him like a mosquito.

“Why can’t I go? I can do this, Dutch. Just give me a chance,” John begged, pawing at Dutch’s elbow, unaware of the man’s quickly dwindling patience.

“Because I need you here, protecting the camp.”

“The camp’s fine. Arthur can protect it. Let me come with you. Please.”

Dutch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d grown a lot more patient with age. Arthur would’ve already received a smack on the back of the head for being so fucking irritating. He wished Dutch would lose his temper sometimes.

“I said no. If you want to be helpful, go check the traps. We still need meat for dinner.” Dutch took notice of Arthur hovering close by and the look in his eyes made Arthur incredibly suspicious. “Look, take Arthur with you. Maybe you can shoot a deer.”

Suddenly, Arthur felt betrayed like never before. Dutch was using him to get rid of John, distracting the boy long enough to climb onto his horse. Oh, how he loathed that shit-eating grin Dutch gave him. 

“But-” John began.

“You said you’d do anything to help so do what I tell you, John. Arthur will give you a helping hand. Now, I’ll be back before dark.” Dutch glanced over to his partner. “Hosea, I’ll see you soon.”

Hosea never even looked up from his book, engrossed in his novel. He’d been sat so quietly on his bed that Arthur hadn’t even realised he was there. Arthur prayed he could have the same undivided attention as Hosea with his books, able to ignore John’s constant whining.

“Good luck, dear,” Hosea said as Dutch nudged his horse towards the road. 

John watched him leave with a frown, crossing his arms. Dutch was going to snoop around for the next hit, he couldn’t have a moody teen with him. John just couldn’t understand that no one would take Dutch seriously if he tagged along, plus he was bound to cause trouble. Even if he was seventeen, John was still very much a kid to everyone else. 

“John, why don’t you check the traps?” Hosea suggested, nose deep between the pages.

“I wanted to go with Dutch...”

Hosea finally looked up, his eyes full of sympathy, and smiled softly. “I know, son, and you will. But Dutch needs to do this alone. Even I wasn’t allowed to go.”

It was a lie, Arthur knew it was because Hosea needed to keep an eye on them. Just in case John picked a fight with Arthur or someone came snooping. John wasn’t a sharpshooter like the rest, he could shoot bottles on a tree stump but not moving targets, not  _ people _ . He hadn’t had to yet and Hosea wanted to keep it that way as long as he had to.

John reluctantly glanced over to Arthur, expression changing from sad to sour in an instant. Arthur was not looking forward to this. John grabbed his rifle from his tent and gestured for Arthur to lead. Dropping his book on a folding chair, Arthur sighed and headed out towards the traps in the trees.

Maybe five peaceful minutes passed before John opened his trap.

“Why doesn’t Dutch let me go with him? Every time he and Hosea go do something, they leave me behind.”

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Because they need to focus. Can’t have you around picking fights with strangers while they’re robbing banks.”

“But I don’t!”

“You stabbed a guy right through the hand last week.”

John’s mouth opened and then shut, and then sadly opened again. “He had it coming.”

Arthur couldn’t exactly argue there. The stranger had mistaken John for a girl with his long hair and groped his ass in the alley like he was a working girl on the clock. John had been furious and embarrassed and promptly nailed the offending hand to the nearest wall with his knife. It was reasonable but the stranger hadn’t seen it that way, and soon the law was after John.

“I know, I know.”

“Did Dutch treat you like this too?”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t matter, like you’re nothing but decoration he sometimes notices.”

Arthur’s fist clenched in his pocket. “For pity’s sake, he doesn’t ignore you. Dutch...” The words hurt to think, let alone utter. “Dutch loves you. You’re his son. And when you’re ready, which you  ain’t , he’ll let you come with.  Ain’t it enough  you steal for us?”

“Maybe I don’t want to pickpocket and stand guard all the time. Maybe I want to hold someone at gunpoint and paint the walls red!” John pulled his rifle from his shoulder and held it out in front of him, mimicking shooting someone.

Arthur stopped in his tracks and placed his hand on top of the barrel, lowering it. John met his serious gaze and stopped too. “No, you don’t. Killing people  ain’t fun and if you think it is, you definitely  ain’t ready.”

John darted his eyes away, unwilling to be serious for one second. It was like he was incapable of acting like an adult. Why did Dutch keep him around if he was useless? Arthur was robbing trains and holding carriages up on the road by the ripe age of fifteen. John was two years older than that and he hardly contributed beyond the occasional petty theft.

“I just want to be part of the gang.”

“Then grow up. Stop arguing like a child and prove to Dutch that you can keep your head screwed on.”

John shouldered the rifle and started walking again. The traps were close by and Arthur longed to return to his book. 

“We’ve got a couple rabbits,” John announced as he loosened the snares and pulling the dead animal free. The second one was still alive, squirming in the leaves. He glanced up at Arthur. 

“Go on. Snap its neck.”

John gulped and approached slowly, raising a hand towards the frightened animal. He looked back at Arthur nervously. How could Dutch ever think this boy was a good idea?

“You know how to. You  seen me do it a hundred times. Just make it quick and don’t let it suffer.”

Grabbing the rabbit, John cradled its head awkwardly and faced the other direction as he twisted his hands. The crunch almost made him sick but he had to learn. John couldn’t grow up and let the men do all the work for him. Sooner or later, he’d have to kill to eat. He freed the rabbit and bagged it as Arthur reset the traps.

“So, tell me, John, did you like doing that?” 

John quickly shook his head. He was pale as a ghost.

“Then you  ain’t gonna like killing people either. But sometimes it has to be done,” Arthur explained, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Come on, let’s get these back.”

Even if John had been reduced to silence from the rabbit, that didn’t stick around for long. He wandered off as Arthur skinned the animals and started roasting them over the fire, hoping they’d be done in time for Dutch. But like every afternoon, John had to sit with Hosea for his reading and writing lessons.

This time, he refused. Right as Hosea was about to begin, pulling out an exercise book John practiced his penmanship in, John stood up and said he was going for a walk. If Dutch had patience for days, Hosea was the saint of patience. He called John’s name as he left the camp but never yelled at him, instead he looked over to Arthur for help.

“What’s wrong with him?” He asked, closing the book.

“What’s right with him?” Arthur countered with a scoff. “Ugh, just... I’ll go get him. He can’t have gone far.”

Hosea smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“Yeah, yeah, next time we’re near a river, I’m tossing him in.”

The threat was almost empty but Hosea laughed anyways, shaking his head. Arthur wasn’t sure where the man had learned such patience and self-control when dealing with morons. He certainly didn’t have that.

He found John by the creek, further away from the camp than he’d like. They weren’t the only gang around these parts and if John went missing, Arthur wouldn’t put himself at the head of the search party. The kid was tossing rocks into the water, watching them splash loudly and scaring whatever fish were swimming in the gentle current.

“Careful, you might fall face down and drown,” Arthur said loudly, startling John. He only wished for him to stumble in and get soaked, was that too much to ask? But John stayed steady on the bank. 

“Ha  ha , very funny. You’re a real fucking comedian, Arthur. You’re wasted as an outlaw.”

Arthur raised his brows. “Damn, what bit you and turned you into a sour bitch?”

John glared over his shoulder briefly and turned back to throw more rocks. “I’m not a bitch.”

“You sure? You’re acting like one. That time of the month already? Maybe the man you stabbed was right, maybe you’re a girl after all.”

“Fuck you.”

Arthur took a few steps closer, out of hand reach in case John was moodier than he predicted. He watched him throw a large stone and whistled as the water erupted high into the air as it smashed into the river. He’d probably knock out some poor fish if he carried on.

“What’s gotten into you, Marston?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Well, much to my disappointment, you’re family so it is my business. You blew off Hosea and he’s real upset with you. Come on, now I saw you’ve been making progress. Just come back to camp with me.”

John ran out of stones so he crossed his arms and glared at the river instead. Maybe he’d fallen in it at night trying to piss in peace and this was his revenge. Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder and John furiously shrugged it off.

“Don’t touch me.”

Arthur tried again but John slapped his hand away. “What the fuck, Marston? Stop being such a bitch.”

“I said don’t touch me!”

“I’ll touch you all I fucking like.” Arthur suddenly grabbed a handful of John’s  shirt and pulled, intent on dragging him kicking and screaming back to camp. Instead, John’s fist flew out and smacked into his cheek, forcing Arthur to stumble back and cradle his face. “The fuck?!”

John looked almost as surprised as Arthur but it was short-lived as Arthur yelled and punched him right back, sending the kid back a few steps. Arthur’s cheek stung but it was nothing compared to the bright red mark he’d left on John. It felt good, though. And it seemed like John thought so too. He swung for Arthur’s face again but Arthur blocked his arm, landing a hit in his chest and forcing the boy over double as he winded him.

“You done yet, Marston?”

John yelled as he tackled Arthur, knocking him onto his back with immense force. He was so pissed off, punching Arthur as he tried to evade the hits. His hand was caught mid-air and Arthur quickly flipped them, shoving almost all his body weight down on John to keep him pinned to the grass.

“That’s enough!” 

John squirmed and tried to smack Arthur’s hand away, legs kicking at the ground to find purchase to buck him off. But Arthur was much taller and heavier, and John was only tiring himself out. Arthur managed to grab his other hand and slammed it down beside John’s head, finally keeping him down. If only Dutch could smack some sense in him at last.

“You done? You finished?”

“Fuck you, Morgan!” John bucked up, legs bent on either side of Arthur’s hips, still desperate to free himself. But Arthur noticed something else and he grinned maliciously.

“I get it now, why you’re so damn pissy.”

“You don’t know shit!”

Arthur rolled his hips down and John froze, all attempts to struggle stopping like a button had been pressed. The glare he received was endearing and Arthur grinded down against John’s erection harder, making the teen stutter.

“Yeah, I think I do. This is why you’ve been such a bitch. What’s the matter? Couldn’t jerk off this morning?”

John’s face was a brilliant shade between pink and tomato-red and his eyes were wide with fear and a hint of arousal.

“You been all worked up, huh?” Arthur didn’t slow down, loving the feeling of himself hardening against John. Even if it was John of all people. “You  ain’t cum today so you’re  gonna be bitchy.”

“ Sh -shut up!”

Arthur’s grin never flagged and he leaned down, lifting his hips up. John instantly arch his back, pushing up with a whine for more. As soon as that desperate noise left his throat, John screwed his eyes shut. 

“It’s alright. Every guy gets needy, even if they don’t  wanna admit it.” Arthur kept his hips out of reach and watched as John sank back down to the ground, his legs spread wider. “Tell you what, if you stop bitching and you go practice with Hosea, I’ll help you out. Deal?”

“No... I-”

Arthur sighed and grinded down, rubbing his cock against John’s balls all the way to the head. John cried out sweetly, gasping  Arthur’s name as he threw his head back and spread his twitching thighs even further apart. 

“Think about this  real carefully, Marston. Cause I will get up and leave you here.”

When he got no answer, Arthur let go of one of John’s hands and began getting up. John’s legs suddenly wrapped around his waist, forcing him back down.

“Don’t. Don’t go.”

If John talked that sweetly more often, Arthur wouldn’t get so annoyed. He’d never really looked at John that way but seeing his flushed face and parted lips made Arthur twitch at the thought of seeing him come apart.

“No?”

John rolled his eyes back and stared up at the sky, the grass, the river- anywhere but Arthur’s wolfish grin and overconfident leering gaze. 

“You want me to stay and make you feel good?” Arthur was a little surprised at the words coming out of his mouth, he usually wasn’t one for talking. That was Dutch’s thing and Arthur too often had his mouth occupied or face shoved in a pillow to talk back. Guess John brought out more than rage in him.

“Yes...” John finally caved, planting his feet on the ground to buck up into Arthur.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

Arthur gulped. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. A kind  _ please _ was, but  _ sir _ sent a chill down his spine. His grin only grew and he used his free hand to trace John’s jawline. He was all skin and bones no matter how much they fed him and his jaw was knife-sharp but soft with unshaved stubble he was very proud of. Arthur cupped his chin and stroked his lower lip with his thumb, pulling it down so John would open his mouth. Spurred on by John’s sudden obedience, Arthur let his thumb move past his soft lips and touched his tongue, gently dragging his finger down. 

John sealed his lips around him, forcing Arthur to look him in the eyes. Arthur might’ve been a decade older with a lot of experience but the sight of John’s half-lidded eyes almost shut, the redness of his cheeks, and his tongue curiously curling up to taste Arthur’s finger, almost unmade him. Is this what Dutch had seen the first time with Arthur? If it was, he appraised the man for his self-control. 

“You look beautiful like that,” Arthur mumbled, captivated by the boy and unaware that his grin had dropped for a look of admiration. 

He guided his thumb deeper, feeling John’s mouth slick more the further he went. If he took the chance, he’d nudge the back of John’s throat. And he did. And John choked, his eyes widened as he sucked in desperate breaths. He pulled his thumb back, stroking the wet tongue as John parted his lips for air. Smudging the saliva on John’s lips, Arthur took his hand away and sat back, making sure the legs wrapped around him stayed close. He rather liked the warmth of John’s inner thighs.

John chose to gulp in  air rather than speak and Arthur was fine with that. A quiet John was rare and he relished every second of it. 

“You like that? Like choking on my fingers?” John moaned sweetly in response, breath hitching as Arthur brought his thumb back and traced his lips. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

“What if- what if we get caught?”

Arthur chuckled. “By Hosea? He won’t mind one bit-”

“I mean strangers. Another gang.”

“Oh, now you’re worried about that? You’re out here making noise, chucking rocks at the fish, without a care in the world, but now I want to pin you down and fuck you, you’re spatially aware again.” Arthur wanted to roll his eyes at him and call him an idiot but John was too pretty right then to insult, even if he was dumb. 

He’d only been poking fun but John’s eyes widened and he let out a strange whine, like he cut it off before it could sound anymore needy. 

“What?” John said quietly under his breath.

“I said you’re spatially aware at the wrong times, Marston-”

“No, the other thing...”

Arthur paused, racking his brain for a second. He leaned down, one elbow supporting him on the grass, and angled his face towards John’s ear. “Oh, you mean the part where I spread your thighs and breed you like a bitch?”

“Oh God...” John cried out, screwing his eyes shut against the flood of arousal taking over every nerve. 

Arthur smiled against his cheek and nibbled at his ear, tugging gently. “Do you want that, Marston?”

“Fuck. Yes. Anything, just do anything.”

“Don’t tempt like that. Otherwise I might take you back to Hosea and show him I tamed myself a wildling. Or if we do get interrupted by strangers, I’ll let them take turns once I’m done using you.” Arthur wouldn’t do the latter but it was fun to pretend and watch John struggle with every instinct to fight back. He wasn’t easy to subdue but Arthur was getting the hang of it. If he could shock and arouse him, John was docile.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. I’d stretch you around my cock and fill you up but after that? You’re all theirs. Could be a couple men, could be a dozen. I’d watch them split you in half over and over again.”

Worryingly, tears welled up in John’s eyes. His free hand lashed out to grab Arthur’s shirt, fisting it so tightly the creases would remain visible long after he let go. “No. No, please don’t. I just want you, no one else. Please, Arthur.”

Arthur knew instantly he’d gone too far, pushed the boy further than he was ready for. He should’ve known better- despite the kid’s bravado and sweet eagerness, he’d never had sex before. Arthur was shoving fantasies down his throat too early. He paused and moved his palm further up from John’s wrist to his hand, lacing their fingers, and leaned down, lips hovering over John’s.

“Hush now, it’s alright. You’re all mine, Marston.” 

He brought his mouth down, savouring the softness of John’s lips for a brief second. But John wasn’t looking for a sweet kiss. He surged up,  all consuming and harsh. He kissed like he fought- messy and too full of misplaced confidence. John wasn’t a bad kisser but Arthur felt a bit of pain, especially when John’s teeth grazed his lips.

Tangling a hand in his hair, Arthur forcefully yanked the teen back down to the ground and set him right. He kissed John properly, licking into his mouth and teasing his tongue. He was sure the boy would cum before he even got his cock out but John was ignoring everything except his mouth, moaning and whining like he’d die if Arthur let go. But eventually he had to pull away.

“God, you look so fuckable,” Arthur said with a huff, lying back down on John’s hips. His erection pressed firmly against John’s and Arthur couldn’t help but grind down on it, enticing a lovely cry.

“So fuck me,” John challenged back, full of cocky confidence Arthur couldn’t wait to ruin. But sadly, John had made a valid point about strangers. It wasn’t a quiet spot of country. 

“Tonight.”

“But you said you’d help me!” If John had to return to camp in this state, he’d fall apart and be in  a worse state than before.

Arthur chuckled and sat back on his knees, hands leaving John’s briefly so he could tackle his belt. “I know I did and I will, but when it comes to fucking your sweet, little ass- I  ain’t doing it out here and I don’t have anything to make it smoother.” He paused and met John’s glare. “I  ain’t gonna hurt you, no matter how much I  wanna sink my cock in you right now.”

His glare softened and John quickly averted his eyes. It didn’t matter if John couldn’t take it seriously, Arthur was too preoccupied with pulling his trousers down. As soon as his cock was free, John gasped at the sensation of Arthur’s warm hand wrapping around his length. His hips stuttered and his gaze returned to Arthur as he sat up on his elbows to watch.

“That’s a pretty cock you’ve got there, Marston,” Arthur complimented, letting go so he could stroke the underside with his index knuckle. It twitched and poked up for more and Arthur loosely grasped it, pulling back the foreskin to rub all the precum over the head with his thumb. John was better endowed than he’d imagined- not that he’d really spent much time thinking about it ‘til now.

“It’d look better in your mouth.” 

There he was, good  ol ’ Marston. Unable to shut his cocky trap for long. He was grinning too but his smile had a quivering edge to it that cracked every time Arthur tightened his grip and pulled.

“You think so? I was  gonna say the same about mine. You looked damn good with my thumb but I think my cock would suit your mouth better.” John blushed and dropped his gaze, embarrassed yet leaking over  Arthur’s fingers. 

Arthur moved his palm down the length and grasped his heavy balls, rolling them between his fingers and tugging until John cried out. He looked so damn good, knees spread but angled towards each other, chest arched forward, and cock sticking out like it was begging to fill any hole. Arthur slapped his balls a couple times, watching hungrily as John’s cock bounced with each slap but John never complained. He was panting wetly.

“I think you’ve earned your treat now, Marston.” 

John looked like he’d been offered a million dollars but only better. His pleased grin faltered as Arthur’s hand wrapped tightly around his cock and jerked him off, just not enough to bring him to orgasm.

“Arthur, please... I’ve been good.”

“I know you have. Now sit up on your knees.”

John raised a brow and didn’t move a muscle. “Why?”

Arthur let go of his cock suddenly and fisted a handful of black hair, tugging John closer so their noses brushed. “Because I fucking said so. On your knees.”

John gulped and carefully rearranged himself, sitting on his knees with his thighs spread apart, cock bouncing with each adjustment. Arthur shuffled closer and fumbled to lose his belt, yanking down his trousers enough to free his own painful erection. 

“Fuck me...” John whispered in awe, staring at the enormous cock as his mouth watered. He felt ridiculously small in comparison. 

“Oh, I will,” Arthur promised, stroking himself to relieve some of the mind-numbing ache. He let go before it felt too good. “Come here. Give me your pretty cock, Marston.”

Grabbing hold of John’s cock, Arthur wound his other hand across his small back and pressed John close to him. The teen opted to bury his face in Arthur’s neck, taking refuge in his collar as he panted against Arthur’s sweat-slicked skin. He swore he felt John’s tongue lap at his neck where his blood pulsed fast and he definitely felt his adventurous lips kiss beneath his shaven jaw.

“That’s it, good boy.” 

“I’m close, Arthur,” John whined into his neck, leaving wet open kisses. God, Arthur needed to use that mouth. 

“I know, sweetheart. You cum when you’re ready.”

John’s moans grew louder as he tensed, pumping his cock into Arthur’s fist and breaking that rhythm as he came hard and fast. Arthur groaned as he felt hot cum land on his own cock and he kept stroking John, past the initial heart-stopping crash and into oversensitivity. John wanted to pull away as it became too much, but he loved how Arthur’s palm squeezed and pulled his balls. Arthur only slowed and stopped when John was limp, but even then he never fully let go. His fingers stroked his cock, circling the head until John felt a second orgasm punching the air from his lungs. His body slumped forward against Arthur’s chest, unable to push away from the constant pleasure. He was both in heaven and hell, oversensitive but loving every spark.

He pouted when Arthur finally let go properly and forced him back on his knees. John just wanted to pass out and do it all over again, but as he caught sight of Arthur’s cock lovingly covered in thick, drooping ropes of cum, he knew it wasn’t over. How the hell was he supposed to fit that horse cock in him? Now that he wasn’t quite so sex-crazed, he almost feared taking it. Arthur was the expert in taking cocks. Dutch didn’t even try to hide it anymore, not since John had past his sixteenth birthday.

“Now, as much as I want to choke you on it,” Arthur began, smudging the cum with his palm and slicking himself. “We’ve been gone a while so I’ll save your mouth for later. But I want you to remember what’s happening tonight, so turn around.”

John thanked God he wasn’t going to suck him off. He was exhausted but he wanted to, more than anything else. He’d probably only need another ten minutes before he could cum again. This time, he didn’t question Arthur and did as told, presenting his ass to him. Arthur placed a firm hand on his back and shoved him down into the grass, forcing John to balance himself on his palms.

His trousers were suddenly pulled down a lot lower, exposing him completely, and John yelped. He'd never been displayed like this and as much as he trusted Arthur, it made his stomach do  somersaults . 

“Relax, I  ain’t gonna fuck you.” 

It was good Arthur made that clear as John almost jerked away as he felt the man’s cock press right up against his hole. Arthur loved the way he twitched and remained still, even when he rubbed himself up and down his ass, nudging his balls. He couldn’t wait to have John like this later and actually push in. John had a cute ass, not a lot there to hold but bending over gave him some curve and Arthur grabbed a cheek as he began jerking himself off.

The spark in his nerves was incredibly welcomed and Arthur was grateful it was his turn to orgasm. It hurt to leave it alone and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Pressing John back against him, Arthur leaned over his back and stroked his cock hurriedly, smacking into John’s balls with the head of his cock and his fist. John yelped and groaned, feeling the beginning of arousal growing again. 

He’d never thought he’d enjoy Arthur being so close but his body was alight and he loved it. He pushed back against him, crying out breathlessly as Arthur bucked up and his cock slid between his balls and up against John’s cock.

“Fuck. I’m- John...” Arthur buried his face between John’s shoulder blades to muffle his groans, holding on to what little sense he had to position his cock against John’s hole. He slid hard, pushing in just a little as he came, an uncontrolled shove of his hips. 

John wanted to feel that over and over again, that hot rush where he was stupidly sensitive. He felt Arthur’s cum land lower as he slumped from the rush, warmth on his balls and inner thighs. Was this anywhere near what proper sex was like? He'd only done a little and John knew if he could spend the rest of his days like this, he would. He felt a little more understanding of working girls.

“Good boy,” Arthur praised breathlessly, patting John’s hip. He gazed at the mess he’d made and grinned. John wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. Shoving himself back in his jeans first, Arthur helped John pull his trousers up.

“Oh God, that’s wet,” John complained, nose scrunching up. 

“ Mhmm , nice little reminder of our time together.”

“Can I wash off?”

Arthur chuckled as John turned around, forcing himself to his feet despite the wobbliness of his legs. “Absolutely not.”

He stood with him, exhaling loudly. He hadn’t been sated like that for weeks and John seemed a lot calmer. 

“Your face still hurt?”

“No. Yours?” John didn’t sound very remorseful.

“Nah, you don’t punch that hard. Come on, let’s get back to camp. Hosea’s  gonna wonder what we’re up to.” 

Arthur gestured for John to lead the way and couldn’t help slapping his ass just on the edge of camp, knowing John couldn’t retaliate with Hosea sat by the fire. The rabbits were almost done and Hosea was making a simple stew, keeping it warm for Dutch’s return. When he caught sight of his boys and the flush across their faces, he had a sneaking suspicion of what they’d been up but he kept that to himself.

“Boys, at last. I feared I’d have to send a rescue party after you. Come sit down, dinner’s almost ready.”

Arthur smiled and brushed a loving hand across Hosea’s shoulders as he passed him to sit on his folded chair. “Thanks, Hosea.”

Neither of them realised that John had disappeared from sight until he came out of Hosea and Dutch’s tent holding his exercise book and a pencil. He sat down quietly next to Hosea’s knee and began writing some sentences down to practice his letters. 

Hosea raised a brow towards Arthur and the blond shrugged, a pleased smile on his face as John did his homework at last.

\---

Dutch was in an excellent mood when he returned an hour later, the sun just setting behind the tall pines. They had a lead, an easy robbery for a lot of money. He spoke at length about it, long after dinner was over and Hosea yearned to go to bed. It was John that stood up first, retreating to his tent after wishing everyone goodnight, though his eyes lingered briefly on Arthur. But Arthur stayed sat down and didn’t follow.

“For once, John has a good idea,” Hosea said with a yawn, even though his mind was swimming with possibilities for the heist. He reached over to pat Dutch’s knee and stood to ruffle Arthur’s hair, pressing a kiss on top of his head. “I’m going to bed.”

Dutch and Arthur watched him head into the tent and unlace the fabric, stopping them from seeing his boring nightly routines. If Arthur strained his ears, he could hear Hosea kick his boots off over the loud crackle of the fire. It was a quiet night but it wouldn’t be for long, not with Arthur’s promise. He glanced over to Dutch and stared as he drank from a whiskey bottle, unbothered to use cups or glasses when it was so late and partly because he didn’t want to wash the dishes either.

Dutch smiled against the rim of the bottle and lowered it, meeting Arthur’s gaze. “Something on your mind, son?”

“I guess. But it’s private.” 

“Is that so? Well, come join me tonight. I’ll make you forget all your troubles.”

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “Tempting but I’m alright. Not tonight, Dutch.”

Dutch frowned and set the bottle on the grass, angling himself towards the blond. He reached out to hold his knee. For Arthur to turn him down, something must’ve been wrong.

“Did something happen while I was gone? You didn’t have another fight with John, did’ya?”

“No. Well, yes, but it was nothing. Don’t worry, Dutch, it  ain’t a bad thing.” 

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? If something was wrong.”

As much as Arthur liked that Dutch was a mother-hen sometimes, his worry was misplaced. Could he even tell him about John? But maybe Dutch could help. There was no point guessing his response so Arthur took the plunge.

“Dutch, when we first... did it, were you nervous?” 

The worried frown was gone in an instant, replaced with hilarious confusion. The poor man blinked at the whiplash but he recovered well enough and smiled, chuckling lightly.

“Of course. I was terrified you’d think I was a creep and you’d run off and I’d never see you again.” Dutch sighed, eyes watching the memory play out. “Why  d’you ask?”

“I meant more  _ physically _ . Were you scared you’d hurt me? If you didn’t do it right.”

Dutch shook his head. “Not particularly. Hosea taught me so much, I was an idiot at the start, but by the time I made love to you, I knew exactly how to do it. Son, what’s going on? If you’re asking if you can be on top next time, the answer’s yes. You don’t need to worry about hurting me-”

“It’s not about you.” Arthur realised quickly how roughly he’d said that as Dutch’s expression dropped and backpedalled. “I mean- I'd like that, a  _ lot _ . But there’s someone else and I really don’t  wanna fuck this up.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t be mad at me.”

Dutch’s palms came up defensively. “I’m not, I’m just shocked. When have you even had time to find a partner? We’ve only been in this county for a few days.” Dutch raised a brow accusingly. “You been sneaking out the camp at night?”

Arthur blinked owlishly. For such an intelligent man, Dutch was fucking thick-skulled. He was even laying out all the proof and not realising there was only one other person around Arthur didn’t sleep with. Suddenly, Dutch straightened his back and inhaled, looking over his shoulder at John’s tent.

“Oh.”

“ _ Yeah _ .”

Dutch swallowed thickly. “How long has this been going on?”

“Few hours.”

“A few hours,” Dutch parroted with a blank face. “A few? I thought-  _ You _ , you two bickering all the goddamn time. You can’t go one day without picking a fight and you’re-” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “A few hours. Jesus Christ.”

“Dutch, please...”

“ _ Excuse _ _ me _ , Arthur, but I need a second to comprehend this.” Dutch sighed again and buried his face in his palm, pulling it down slowly as he watched the fire consume the rest of the logs. “Stay here.”

He got up and retreated to his shared tent, mumbling something to Hosea that Arthur couldn’t hear. When he came back, he tossed a bottle into Arthur’s hands. Before he even glanced at the label, Arthur knew exactly what it was. He’d passed it often enough to Dutch in bed. 

When his mentor sat down again, he leaned in towards Arthur and kept his voice low. 

“Just do what I do with your body. Just keep him comfortable and talk to  him, check on him. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, Dutch.”

“You won’t but... if something goes wrong, we’re here.” Dutch’s hand grasped his shoulder and shook it. “It’s embarrassing but you can always come to us.”

Arthur stared at the oil in his hands. “Am I just worrying for nothin’?”

“Nothing new there, son. I’m going to bed. Just like you, I have my own evening plans.” He winked and kissed Arthur’s temple, shaking him again as he headed into his tent permanently. 

Arthur watched him disappear inside, saw by the shadows on the cloth how he held Hosea close for a kiss before the oil lamp was shut off. Was it going to be like that with John? The boy had had enough time to calm down and so did Arthur. It was one thing to fuck around with Dutch and Hosea and the occasional stranger, but John was so different. What if he hated it? What if it was just him being horny earlier and he hadn’t meant any of it? 

But like everything with Arthur, he worried too much. And he wouldn’t ever find out until he tried it, so he snuffed out the fire and walked to John’s tent, hovering outside for a moment before peeling back the cloth. 

“You always keep people waiting, Morgan?” John complained from the bed he’d stretched out on. More of a mess of blankets and his thick bedroll than a real cot but it looked cosy. 

Arthur ducked his head and stepped inside, his stomach twisting. He held the bottle tightly.

“Not everything’s about you, Marston.”

John rolled his eyes in the soft golden glow of the kerosene. “Just come here. Been working myself up.” 

Arthur glanced down to his trousers, unbuttoned and low on his bony hips, and saw the outline of his hard cock beneath the dark fabric. His shirt was still closed and Arthur couldn’t wait to undress him properly, like he’d wanted to earlier. But clearly he was taking too long to move.

John surged up to his feet and grabbed two handfuls of Arthur’s face, pulling him into a rough kiss. Shamelessly, he grinded his cock against Arthur’s thigh and grinned triumphantly when the  blond’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close.

As Arthur felt John’s lips move across his cheek and down under his jaw, tongue leaving warm slickness along his throat, the fear started to subdue. If John’s desperation was any indication, it was one that screamed he wanted this. The boy didn’t hesitate for a second, planting open kisses on Arthur’s stretched throat eagerly while his hands started to wander further south.

His fingers fumbled at Arthur’s belt, pawing it off in a rush that the blond had never experienced before. Dutch was rough and Hosea took his sweet time, but neither had ever rushed to undress him quite like this. To them, he was a present to be lovingly unwrap. To John, clothes were an offence to be removed immediately.

It happened all so fast. One second, John was fighting with his buttons, the next he was on his knees like he’d done this before. But Arthur knew better. John had only ever experienced one kiss in his life before today and nothing more, otherwise he would’ve bragged a dozen times over like he had about that girl. 

Arthur brushed his hand through John’s dark hair, scratching just behind his ear until the boy moaned softly.

“You look  real good down there. Seems almost natural for ya,” Arthur teased, using his free hand to pull his balls and soft cock out. Yes, John aroused him but his stomach was still contorting itself, making it difficult to get hard.

But clearly, that part didn’t matter one bit to John. His eyes had glazed over as he stared at Arthur’s fat cock. Close to the look a dog got when you offered up a fresh bone. 

“You like it, Marston?” He received a tiny nod. “Well, why don’t you get better acquainted?”

John sat there for a moment, unmoving, before he shuffled closer and arched his back, mouth coming an inch close to Arthur’s balls. He was so much smaller and shorter, face just fitting at the right height for Arthur rest his cock on John’s face. But there was something about seeing the teen explore by himself that started to untangle the mess inside Arthur.

His soft lips pressed against his balls, tentative at first like a brush of the wind, but slowly his tongue darted out across them. John rested his temple against Arthur’s thigh, angling his face so he could kiss them gently.

“You’re doing so good, Marston,” Arthur encouraged, scratching John’s scalp. He looked down, twisting his neck to see the teen’s lap, certain he was touching himself- but his trousers still covered him. “Take your cock out.  Wanna see it.”

John whined and pressed his face closer, nose between Arthur’s limp cock and his balls. His hand pulled at his own clothes, freeing his leaking cock so that he could please Arthur more. He’d never thought he’d be in this situation but he’d jerked off to it so often, catching glimpses of Arthur’s naked body when they washed in the river together. 

Angling his face up, he kissed the base and down the thick length to the tip. Arthur was just ridiculously big and he wasn’t even hard, though John’s gentle kitten licks over the head started to change that. John had never seen Arthur hard before. When they’d been stuck sharing a tent or even a bed and Arthur ignored all courtesy to jerk off beside him, it was always in the dark beneath the blanket.

John was more than happy to worship his cock like this. It was just the blowing part he was nervous about. All he knew was no teeth, something he’d overheard a man say to a working girl in an alley, and that was it. What if he wasn’t good enough? 

His tongue darted out to draw Arthur into his mouth, suckling the head gently until he grew more confident. He stayed where he was, unsure how he was supposed to proceed now that Arthur’s cock was hardening and causing his jaw to ache.

“God, that’s so good,” Arthur praised and John felt his face warm, more embarrassed by the compliment than the cock in his mouth. Fingers threaded through his hair and John let his head be guided back and forth. He kept his lips sealed, mouth watering as he couldn’t find the time to swallow and each drag off Arthur’s length made his lips slicker. 

And Arthur loved how messy he got the more he worked. Just the sight of John sucking cock was turning him on but the teen was good at it. Nothing skilful or worthy of a medal, but it brought Arthur quickly to the brink.

“Work that tongue of yours too.” John obeyed with closed eyes, savouring the smooth glide. “Good boy, feels fucking great.”

John felt relief bubble up between his needs. He was decent enough for Arthur and that made a part of him oddly happy. It was like a weight he tried hard not to acknowledge was suddenly lifted and he thanked Arthur for it the best way he could. 

“Fuck yes,” Arthur hissed through clenched teeth, groaning as John’s hand came up to jerk off what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. His pattern was a little off, too distracted by his newfound talent, but it sent sparks up Arthur’s spine. “Good boy, good boy...”

Arthur didn’t warn John he was about to cum, only to revel in the beautiful shock on his face. The sudden sensation of something landing down his throat made John gag but Arthur kept him still by his hair, pumping his hips into that perfect sweet mouth. His eyes watered but John was very much capable of fighting back and freeing himself if he wanted to. Instead, he stayed on his knees, overcoming the shock with soft, muffled moans as he received his reward. 

When Arthur pulled out, a string of saliva connected the head to John’s lips so he made sure to drag his cock against the teen’s mouth, making even more of a mess. Opening his mouth wider, John presented him a sight that almost made him cum again. He hadn’t swallowed what had gathered on his tongue, probably unsure he could. Arthur dipped his thumb in it, spreading it across John’s tongue with a sated grin before John kissed his finger and suckled it. 

“Go on, Marston. You swallow all that for me.”

John leaned back and swallowed, his throat muscles moving with the action, and he opened his mouth again to show he’d been good. God, couldn’t he be like this all the time? 

Arthur trailed his hand down his neck, the heel of his palm below John’s chin and fingers expanding down across the pale skin. Maybe he could train John to take all of him, feel his cock down John’s throat from the outside. That was another thought that had his spent cock stirring. 

“You promised you’d fuck me,” John reminded with a hoarse voice, miles beyond his usual gravel-like tone. He sat up and pressed a kiss to his limp cock. “Tonight.”

“And I plan on it. Trust me, I can go again. Now, go lie on your back.” Arthur inclined his head towards the cot and fished the bottle out of his pocket, setting it down beside the pillows. He was over-dressed for this.

Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, he tossed it to the ground and kicked off his boots. John had already worked his jeans down with his needy pawing so he slipped them off and stood nude above John. Whatever doubts Arthur had carried into the tent left him the second how saw Marston’s reaction to his quick strip-show. His eyes were hungry and his chest heaved like he’d run from wolves and that pretty cock was just begging to be touched, leaking precum all over his soft tummy. Arthur couldn’t resist it any longer.

He sat down on his knees beside John and leaned down to kiss him softly, deep down loving how John eagerly kissed back. Half distracted by his lips, Arthur fumbled with John’s buttoned shirt and stroked the warm skin. He pulled away much to the teen’s annoyance so he could pull it down his skinny shoulders. With each inch of skin he revealed, Arthur found himself appreciating John’s body more and more. The small scars, the scatter of beauty spots on his shoulder- He really was pretty. Nothing like the hard muscles Dutch and himself had or the lean fitness of Hosea. John was the type of boy you fucked hard and fast in an alley with a hand clamped over his mouth, the kind Arthur rarely met and when he did, they were his favourites above all other groping strangers. 

He trailed his hands down John’s chest, thumbs brushing firmly over his nipples until John was squirming beneath him. 

“Is that good?” He asked as John arched his back and cried out as he pinched them, twisting the rosy buds under his rough hands. He knew his hands were too calloused for women to enjoy on their bodies but John had zero complaints, gasping as Arthur raked his blunt nails over them. Red marks stained his chest where Arthur clawed him. “ D’you like me playing with your tits, Marston?”

“Yes! Yes... fuck yes...” 

Arthur flattened his palms over his pectoral muscles, hands wide enough to cover them and reach to the ends of his collarbones. He rolled the heel of his palm against the perky nipples, grinning as John keened so sweetly from the over-stimulation. 

“Maybe I should get you a nice corset, give you them curves you’re missing.” 

“Oh... God...” John forced out as his legs flexed and his hands clenched the blanket beneath him. 

“Would you do that for me?” Arthur lowered himself to one elbow and licked a broad stripe across John’s nipple, earning a high-pitched whine that made him twitch. “Would you let me dress you up like a fancy lady and fuck you senseless in a skirt?”

“Yes, yes, anything... please Arthur!”

“Please what? What  d’you want, Marston?” With one index finger, Arthur traced the length of John’s ignored cock from base to tip, collecting the slick precum there so he could lick it off his finger. It was sweet, just like John. 

“I  wanna cum, Arthur. Fuck me, please,” John begged with tears in the corners of his eyes, pushing his hips up towards Arthur’s wandering fingers. 

The boy was just too pretty to say no to. Heaving himself up, Arthur rearranged himself further down and grabbed John’s waistband, pulling his trousers off completely so he could settle between his bare thighs. And by God, was he warm and soft and Arthur wanted to stay there forever.  He looked down at the teen and splayed his hands across John’s tiny hips, holding them gently before he explored further up to his nipples. As he brought his hands back down south, he dragged his nails over his nipples and down the dip of his ribcage, along the soft tummy and back to his sharp hipbones. 

“So damn pretty, Marston.”

“I  ain’t pretty, stop saying that. Men ain’t pretty,” John complained, his breath catching as Arthur stroked the insides of his supple thighs up to his bent knees.

Shaking his head, the blond chuckled. “Sure you are. Men can be pretty too. Hosea’s pretty.”

Funnily enough, John didn’t argue on that. He’d seen the rare photos Dutch held onto from back in the day, when Hosea was his age rather than double. So maybe Arthur had a point about pretty men, but John certainly wasn’t one. There was no way he could compare to Hosea’s sharp face and clean-cut appearance, blond hair always brushed back perfectly and a body that refused to accept his forty-something years on earth. 

“I still ain’t pretty.”

“You  ain’t gonna change my mind, Marston.” Arthur reached up behind him and grabbed a pillow. “Put this under your hips.”

John cocked an eyebrow. “You finally  gonna fuck me?”

“I’m already fucking you.”

“Really? Felt a lot bigger in my mouth.” 

With the pillow still in hand, Arthur groaned and smothered John’s face with it, holding it down for a few seconds as John laughed. He smacked him with the corner for good measure and ran a hand beneath John’s hips, forcefully lifting him up to put the pillow there. John’s laughs dissolved as Arthur manhandled him into the right position and he watched with wide eyes as the bottle by his head was uncapped and oil poured down over Arthur’s fingers. His dried cum was still there and it made Arthur grin over the lovely claim he'd left on John.

“Now, fair warning, first time always feels weird.” His fingertip brushed at John’s hole, startling the teen to yelp. “Just let me know if it hurts. Shouldn’t do but you  gotta tell me.”

“Okay, Arthur.”

For a boy who seemed downright starving for Arthur’s cock, John had never played there. Not once. He knew sex with men involved a lot of preparations, he caught Dutch doing it often enough with Arthur that he knew more than most civilised people. But he’d just never tried it himself. 

Arthur leaned over him, one hand busy and the other on the blanket, keeping him from crashing down on John. His finger was just stroking the outside, not doing more than pushing against the hole. It drove John mad.

“Just fuck me already, Morgan!”

The finger slid past the tight muscles and John gasped out at the foreign sensation, legs clamping around Arthur’s hips as it moved slickly in and out at a ridiculously slow pace. It wasn’t painful but definitely weird like Arthur had warned.

“You alright?”

John nodded weakly, eyes shut as he turned his cheek into a pillow. “Weird...”

“I know, I know. But it gets better.” Arthur stroked John’s side firmly as his thumb traversed across his ribs up to a still very sensitive nipple, rubbing it under the pad as John moaned low in his throat. Leaning up higher, he kissed John’s cheek and nibbled at his jaw as a second finger stretched the boy open.

John’s whine only urged Arthur on as he curled his fingers, stroking his soft walls. His insides were so warm and tight, clenching rhythmically around Arthur as John clamped down with each deep slide. It was similar to when Arthur stretched himself, too distracted as his mind fogged with each prod- usually watched by either of his partners. He could watch as John’s stomach muscles tightened and his thighs trembled when he picked up the pace, wondering whether he looked that good under Dutch.

Sitting up to see his work, Arthur inhaled sharply and grinned. Three fingers deep and John was a wet mess- oil, precum, tears, sweat. His skin was shining radiantly under the kerosene flame and best of all, he was goddamn beautifully impaled on his hand. He spread his fingers as he reluctantly removed them and rubbed the smooth hole gently.

“Don’t... stop...” John mumbled breathlessly as he panted up towards the roof of the tent, ankles nudging Arthur’s back for him to come back closer. 

“Thought you wanted my cock, Marston.” Grabbing the base of his cock, Arthur pressed the head against John’s hole and grinded slowly. He wasn’t fully hard but a few self-serving jerks of his hand got him ready. “I can always leave you here by yourself-”

John’s hand whipped out and held Arthur’s bicep with a crushing grip. Sitting up so his face was almost level with the blond, John’s glare was kinda cute. 

“You’re staying here,” he growled, fingers digging painfully. 

Arthur only scoffed at his pathetic display of power and pressed a hand flat on John’s chest, shoving him back down forcefully as he got himself into a better position. Before John could retaliate, he drove his cock past the tight muscles and sank a couple inches deep, knocking all the air out of John’s heaving lungs.

“Fuck!” 

“That’s my good boy, you take my cock like a champ,” Arthur praised as he took John’s hips and brought him closer, filling up his body until it was flush with Arthur’s, balls pressed against his ass and cock buried so deep both of them nearly blacked out. He stopped himself from rutting and grinding to give the teen a moment to recover, and so that he didn’t cum within seconds.

“Fuck...” John drawled, lengthening the word on a moan as he felt Arthur twitch inside him. It was almost too much to take, split over something he could barely fit in his mouth, but all those fingers had done a good job. If left to himself, John knew he wouldn’t have done enough. 

Just like that was good, even if his cock was flushed red and dying to be touched. He’d happily lie like this for ages, maybe turn over onto his stomach with his legs spread over Arthur’s thighs. But it wasn’t enough for the blond and sooner than John was prepared for, he felt his cock slide out slowly. Now  _ that _ was a good feeling, great even, just enough drag that John let out a long groan only for it to be punched out as Arthur thrust back in with no warning.

“Fuck!”

Arthur chuckled and patted his thigh, slowly pulling out a few inches and then back in again. “ Should’a known you’d only get dumber with a cock in  ya . You got anything else to say ‘cept fuck?”

“ Shuddup . I  ain’t gonna talk all poetic when you’re- _ Fuck! Oh God... _ ” John’s voice shook as he drew in shuddering breaths, lips parted sweetly as Arthur staggeringly picked up the pace and started fucking him earnestly. 

“What were you saying, darlin’?” Arthur asked with a particularly deep thrust punctuating his question. Not that John could answer it anyways, gasping and moaning and just taking it so well. “God, Marston, I  ain’t never been grateful for your bickering but damn am I glad I can finally fuck you silent. Now, you be a good boy and take it all,  ‘cause that lovely hole’s real greedy and I’m getting close.”

John’s arms came up from the crumpled blanket to hold Arthur’s biceps, pulling him down so he could clutch him tightly. 

“I’m close too... Please, Arthur...”

Kissing John’s neck all the way up to his cheek, Arthur grinned against his skin and pulled the boy’s body higher up into his lap, folding him almost in half. It felt even deeper than before and John felt every inch pounding into him, forcing his legs to clamp tight around  Arthur’s waist and refused to let go.

“That feel good, Marston?” Arthur kissed under his jaw and trailed his tongue from the dip in his throat up to the bone. “You like being filled up like a whore?”

“God yes... Never thought it’d be this good. I get it now. You n’ Dutch n’ Hosea. I get it.”

“You’ve got no idea how good this can get. Just the beginning, Marston.” Arthur didn’t slow down his thrusts but he stopped kissing the teen’s salty throat, catching his glazed eyes. “You  gonna want this again?”

John nodded frantically. “ S’long as you make me cum, I’ll do anything for ya.” 

It was both the cutest and the hottest thing Arthur had ever heard come from the boy’s mouth, and he got talking pretty sweet when drunk. It warmed Arthur from the inside and dispelled any lingering worry that still clutched the edges of his mind. 

He sat up and watched John’s face as he pounded into him, unable to stop that warm feeling taking over. John’s black hair was fanned across the pillow, some messy strands stuck to his forehead, and Arthur was moving them out of the way before he realised he’d lifted his hand.

“So goddamn pretty.”

“I’m so close, Arthur, please...”

Arthur grinned and leaned down to kiss the teen briefly before fucking him hard, certain the poor boy wouldn’t walk straight for a week. His orgasm was within reach so he knelt with his hands on either side of John and kept abusing his hole, until he felt that final peak and the heart-stopping crash that followed. 

He forced himself still as he came, buried so deep his cum wouldn’t leak out easily, and rolled his hips with each wave, groaning so loud he was certain the others would hear. But that didn’t matter. Arthur kept his eyes open, grinning as John was enraptured by his orgasmic expression and only closed his eyes as the sensations faded to a warm hum. When he looked down after a couple seconds, he realised John hadn’t finished yet, much to his surprise. The kid had a strong willpower Arthur never possessed. 

Without much thought, Arthur wrapped his hand around John’s neglected cock and jerked him off, not even bothering with oil from how wet the teen  was. Arthur was still hard enough to thrust shallowly into him but not able to match the speed of his hand. 

“Arthur! Please!”

“I got you, John. Be a good boy for me and cum, yeah?”

John didn’t need to be told twice, bucking up into  Arthur’s slick fist and pushing down on his cock while he still could. His fingers left red marks on the  blond’s forearms as he cried out and his legs trembled with the force of his orgasm. And like Arthur, he didn’t bother muffling his moans as he felt cum land on his stomach. Arthur’s fingers tightened, squeezing the base to the tip tightly to get every drop, and John couldn’t stop fucking into his hand desperately. 

“That’s it, good boy...” Arthur cooed as he gently let go and started to pull out, chuckling when John winced from his sensitive hole being touched. But that didn’t stop him sticking a couple fingers in there just to feel his cum.

“Don’t... Too much...” 

“You’re a real breeding whore now, Marston. How’s it  feel ?”

Arthur’s fingers pumped in and out leisurely, mostly to draw beautiful moans from the teen’s raw throat. Reluctantly, he stopped so he could grab something to clean up with. It ended up being a dirty shirt.

“Good. So good. Want it again.”

Arthur’s chuckle was soft but tired. “I want to sleep, Marston. Some of us need rest, but you’re more than welcome to touch yourself.”

“You staying here?”

“Sure, if you’ll have me.”

John quickly scooted to the side, leaving Arthur just enough space on his bedroll. He pulled the blanket free from beneath him, up to his clawed chest, and patted the pillow beside his head. How could Arthur resist that? 

Carefully extinguishing the lamp, Arthur crawled in beside John and was quickly attacked by his legs and lead-heavy arm eager to tangle themselves around him before he was even comfortable.

“Hold on, hold on. God, too fucking needy sometimes.” Arthur snaked an arm beneath John’s head and down around his shoulders, bringing him close. “There. Now get to sleep, Marston.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Anytime.” Arthur meant that, he couldn’t wait to part the boy’s thighs and fuck him until he blacked out. But for their first time together, he couldn’t have asked for more. “Still  gonna get you in that dress.” He reached down to kiss the top of John’s head lovingly. “My good boy.”

“ _ Goodnight _ , Arthur,” John said slowly, too tired and fucked out to deal with the  blond’s insane fantasies. His eyes were already closed and Arthur’s beating  heart in his ear was lulling him to sleep.

\---

Arthur didn’t realise he’d have to face Dutch the next morning. The thought never crossed his mind, not until he was stepping out of  John’s tent and heading right for the campfire. He stopped short of the chairs, meeting Dutch’s curious gaze, and without turning around, Arthur knew John had just emerged too.

“Morning, Arthur.” The words were simple to the untrained ear but Arthur knew Dutch was fighting a confident laugh. 

“Morning, Dutch. Morning, Hosea.”

The eldest raised his coffee mug in response, legs crossed in front of the fire to ward off the morning chill. It was so much worse when he saw Hosea’s knowing look as he sat down in his chair. 

“Sleep well?” Hosea asked sweetly but his eyes were anything but sweet. Not quite jealousy or malice like Dutch, but somewhere between envy and hunger. Arthur just knew the second they’d invite him into their tent, he was going to be reminded who he belonged to. So there was no harm in teasing them both.

“Just fine, thanks. Best night in a  _ long _ time.”

“Is that so?” Dutch’s brows raised elegantly but he was prickling at Arthur’s taunt, hand clenching against his knee, while Hosea only smirked behind his mug. 

“Uh huh, it is.” 

John appeared by his side, taking the last chair for himself as he hunted down breakfast from the pot above the fire. He was quieter than most morning, shooting a brief hello to the men before hiding himself in his meal. His face was heating up too much under Dutch’s intense gaze.

“I’m glad you both slept so well. Hosea and I were kept awake for most of it, must be a loud county at night.”

John coughed as he choked on some rabbit but Arthur was less fazed, mostly because he’d been fortunate to have his mouth empty. Otherwise his coffee would’ve been spat half a mile down the hill.

“Yeah, must be, Dutch. Must be.” 

Arthur raised the mug to his lips and hid his triumphant smirk behind it as Dutch jealously glowered. He knew it had nothing to do with spending the night away in a different tent, but because Arthur hadn’t kindly shared John. At least, for now.


End file.
